


Apple-Pie Order

by frumious_bandersnatch



Series: Domestic WG (better series name to be thought of later) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial, Edging, Fat Dean Winchester, Fat Sam Winchester, Lucifer is an ass, M/M, Multi, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Lucifer and Crowley go about figuring out the meeting arrangements.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Crowley/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Lucifer/Gabriel
Series: Domestic WG (better series name to be thought of later) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080914
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter One

Lucifer and Crowley didn’t like each other. They never had, and, in all likelihood, never would. But there was almost always mutual respect, and now, a tolerance borne of necessity. 

It wouldn’t do well for either of their relationships if they were at each other's throats. 

“You’ve put on weight,” Lucifer hummed, lounging back in the seat at the little window side table and the quaint cafe they’d chosen as a meeting place. He sipped at his coffee. 

“Ten pounds. Barely anything.” Crowley eyed Lucifer carefully, before unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking his seat. 

Lucifer chuckled, looking down at his drink contemplatively. They both knew that was horseshit. “Mm. No, no, Crowley. Play nice. Don’t lie to me, puppy, especially not over something so innocuous. You  _ wanted _ to gain weight. Your vessel is dead. One needs to put in a concerted effort in order to make things...stick. So. Dean or Cassie? Who’s into it?”

Crowley summoned a glass of scotch to hand and drew his lower lip between his teeth, seeming to be choosing his words almost tentatively. “Cas.” He said simply. “Now if you want to see a figure that’s  _ really  _ softened-“

“Dean? We have bets placed.” Lucifer smirked. 

And that seemed to cut through the awkwardness like a knife. Deals, bets, under the table sorts of things… a pleasure for both entities. 

“On whether or not he’s bigger than your Sam? I’d have made a wager but Cassie isn’t the betting sort. I’m assuming Samuel is…”

“Oh, yes.” 

“He likes it?” 

“He came around.”

Crowley made a face at that, and Lucifer chuckled. 

“Gabriel keeps me away from things like whatever’s going through your mind right now. Willing, wanting, needing.” He hummed, inspecting his nails in the morning light coming through the window.

“I don’t quite trust Gabriel, either.” Crowley shook his head and smiled wryly. “Well. I think I know exactly what Dean and Castiel are doing, even though I specifically asked them not to, so we’d best stall before we go and visit, hm?”

Lucifer laughed at that. “You know,” He finished his coffee. “I was about to suggest the very same thing.”

Crowley held up a finger. “First,” He nodded towards the counter. “I think I’ll have myself a scone?” He didn’t miss the way Lucifer’s eyes glinted, the way his lips curled up into an indulgent smirk, and,

“Be my guest.”

Crowley held Lucifer’s gaze for a few moments, shifting from foot to foot and feeling for a moment so incredibly small. An imp at the feet of something big enough to take a bite of the planet, if they really wanted to. 

And then he smiled, too sweet, and turned on his heel, and walked up to the counter.

They walked, and talked, and ate (Crowley ate), flitting and flying between this city or suburbia or wherever the hell else and the next.

“Christ, Lucifer, you’re awful.” Crowley laughed, brows raised as he gave a wide, genuine grin.

“That’s not what your mother said-“

Crowley’s eyes flashed red for a brief moment and he raised his brows expectantly, mood soured. 

Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“...Did you two actually…”

“Oh, yeah. With the way she was into me? Come on, man, how could I not have tapped that.”

Crowley was silent for a few moments, before he cleared his throat. “Paris?”

“Eh. Why the fuck not.”

Paris. London. L.A. Tokyo.

Why the fuck not, might as well wait for their significant others to finish fucking.

Lucifer groaned and laughed, sipping at his beer. “They’ve gotta be done. Right? Or do you wanna start on my end. We really shoulda been talking...figuring all this shit out.”

“Should have sent Cas to deal with you, would have been all business.”

“ _ Dad _ , no. Can’t deal with him alone. Don’t know how you do.”

Crowley gave a simple smile at that. “I love him.”

“Ah.” Lucifer cocked his head to the side. “That’ll do it. Shall we?” He held his arm out to Crowley.

“Of course.”

And with a fluttering of wings, they were gone.

——

“Hnnh- Cas, Cas, please-“ Dean grunted, panting heavily. Red and flushed in the face, cock hard and leaking under the massive overhang of his gut. “M’so close, can’t hol- hold back, can’t, please, please-“

He’d been begging for the better part of an hour as Castiel had fucked him, stroked his cock, deepthroated him, fed him, everything, everything, and he was surprising himself with how long he’d lasted already.

Castiel’s thrusts stopped but Dean’s body didn’t. Blubber still wobbling, thighs still twitching and hole still clenched tightly around the angel’s cock like he never wanted to let go.

Dean whined but was silenced by a small, startled noise from Cas.

“Well. You too are getting busy, huh? Hey there, porky.” Lucifer gave a jaunty little wave, smiling.

“How bloody long have you two been at it?” Crowley asked just after, exasperated, before he turned to give Lucifer a warning glare for the nickname to Dean alone.

There was complete and utter silence for a moment. And then Cas slowly pulled out of Dean and snapped the both of them dressed- himself in his usual suit-tie-trench coat combo, Dean in a pair of loose (for now) sweatpants and a t-shirt that rid up to just below his navel, even with the sagging overhang of his belly tucked into his waistband.

“You didn’t say you were bringing him here.” Dean said gruffly as he struggled to roll over and turn so he was facing Crowley and Lucifer.

“No, you didn’t.” Castiel echoed, sitting next to Dean and delicately crossing one leg over the other. 

Crowley hummed. “And you promised you wouldn’t fuck without me, but here we are. It’s coming out of your ass tomorrow.”

Dean shuddered and drew his lower lip between his teeth. He was still panting, still flushed with exhaustion, cock still hard and straining where it was trapped under his belly.

Lucifer tapped his lower lip, eyes trailing indulgently over Dean’s figure.

And that, of course, prompted Castiel to wrap an arm as far as he could reach around Dean’s back, a glare charged with grace from the younger angel, almost defiant. “Why don’t you and Crowley go to the kitchen to speak.”

“Cas, don’t.” Dean spoke, reaching up with one flabby arm so he could hold his hand over his mouth, stifling a hiccup. “It’s fine.” He looked back up at Lucifer.

Never enjoyed the idea of him being with Sam. Even after everything. But seeing, hearing about the care, the...the real love, he learned to put up with it. 

“So you’re here to...what, talk, see when-“ He swallowed, grunting. “If we can meet up? The house is big. We have room. I don’t-“ He sighed. “Would prefer to stay here?”

Crowley hummed. “And I’m sure your brother would say the same, that’s why Lucifer and I are doing this. That and to make sure we’re not at each other’s throats on the day of.”

“Mhm. So we’ll figure out what’s gonna happen- sorry to say that you’re probably gonna have to be getting off your fat ass, bucko.”

“I’m sure Sam would be less than pleased to hear this affair is cancelled over you, Lucifer.” Castiel replied before Dean could.

It took Crowley a few moments to half cajole, half drag Lucifer out of the room and into the kitchen. 

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Crowley grumbled, reaching into the liquor cabinet to pull out a bottle of scotch.

“I like it. Poking at people. I’m sure you understand, and- well, Crowley, there’s quite a lot of Dean to poke at, mentally and physically.” Lucifer hummed, before he paused as he watched Crowley pour himself a very generous three fingers. “Can I have a glass?”

Crowley stared at Lucifer for a moment, before doing as asked. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. And with how Sam has been calling, texting Dean, we would have thought you’d matured.”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and picked up the glass with both hands. “Matured. I’ve matured. I’m not interested in an apocalypse, I can appreciate...a good deal of humanity, what more do you want?”

“More than that. Common decency?” Crowley arched a brow as he sipped at his drink. “ _ Anyways. _ I’m going to get shit from Castiel for it no matter if we figure this out or not.”

Lucifer chuckled. “I’d pay to see that.”

Crowley shook his head, huffing and setting down his glass. “Onwards? Let’s see how the younger Winchester is faring.”

“Mm.”

——

Sam groaned softly and swallowed, resting his head back. “Gabe, I can’t, I mean-“ He hiccuped, grunting, “I mean it, m’full.”

Gabriel chuckled softly. He couldn’t really sit in Sam’s lap anymore- the colossal softness that was his belly spilled out over his thighs, even drooped a little over his knees, when he sat. But he could straddle his stomach, could hold himself up and be feather-light with just a touch of grace even though his knees would dig into the sides of it, it was almost never painful or uncomfortable- unless he wanted it to be. 

“Sweet cheeks,” Gabriel stretched his wings behind him, gave them a little flap before he brought one around, primary feather nudging at Sam’s nipple. “You can have a little more of my baking. You’re not gonna explode. You know you want another brownie. Made them extra fudge-y, just for you, Sam.”

Sam let out a long, rolling belch as Gabriel leaned a little heavier into his stomach. He whined, brows raised and puppy eyes fully in-gear.

“Can I have one of the cream puffs first?”

Gabriel chuckled, deftly picking up one of the light pastries between forefinger and thumb. “Sure. But you’re finishing all of this either way.”

Sam nodded, leaning his head forward slightly and parting his lips so Gabriel could guide the cream puff to them. Perfectly flakey on the outside; cool, sweet cream in the center, had him moaning and savoring every second it was in his mouth.

“ _ God _ , Sammy, why don’t you make those noises for me more often? Fuck.” Gabriel groaned, coaxing a Sam into returning to the brownie and stealing the occasional kiss between bites.

“Mm, that’s it- just a little more for me? Only a quarter of the platter left, really, so good for me Sammy. Love it when we do this.”

Quarter of the platter in about half an hour, Sam left with pupils blown wide on endorphins and a dull, happy look to his expression as Gabriel curled in against him.

He hiccuped a few times, tears beading involuntarily in his eyes as he cleared his throat.

“You’re absolutely perfect, Sam.” Gabriel murmured. “Can’t believe you’re so  _ big _ . I can lay on you like this, you’re the best pillow.”

Sam groaned as the archangel leaned his full weight against his overstuffed stomach. “Hn- Gabe, fuck… feel so full, feels so good…”

“I know, baby, I know, you’ve done so well for me. Done so perfect. So good.” Gabriel kissed at Sam’s neck- kissed at his chins, there wasn’t much of a neck to speak of. 

And then there was a fluttering of wings in the next room over, and two pairs of footsteps.

“Bloody hell.” Crowley murmured, halfway between shocked and appreciative. “Look at you, Samantha.”

“Crowley.” Sam greeted, grunting as he struggled to sit.

And that was the difference. Crowley really should have gone with Gabriel, because seeing Dean embarrassed, self conscious, still hurt, still twisted up inside him. And Sam, here, was comfortable and unabashed.

“It’s, uh, good to see you, man. How’s Dean?”

“Doing well.” Crowley hummed, watching as Lucifer drifted over to take a seat next to Sam and lean into him slightly.

“Doing quite well, really, happier than he’s been in a long while. It’s good to see it.” Crowley smiled, then.

“Dean? Happy? What drugs you got him on?” Gabriel snorted, before shaking his head. “It’s good he’s taken to domesticity. They deserve it.”

“I’m right here, Gabe,” Sam mumbled, and for his efforts, earned another kiss.

“So, Luci, where we thinkin’ to meet up?” Gabriel raised a brow. “You two talk about it yet?”

Lucifer pursed his lips. “No, we didn’t. Dean seemed intent on staying home- Sam? What do you think?”

Sam let out a long sigh and leaned back. “Uhm-“ He cleared his throat and swallowed. “I’d rather go and meet him. The house is a mess,” He excused lightly, laughing. “And it would do me some good to do more than just the house and the yard and the occasional date in Paris, or wherever,” He said, giving Gabriel a fond look.

Gabriel knew the best places. The ones that gods and monsters and ancient things would bring their human paramours- where stupefyingly obese, or tattoo-covered, or halfway between human and something else, wasn’t out of place at all.

Lucifer pulled a face, but nodded. “That settles it. Crowley- your place. Preferably tidier than it was when we stopped in?”

Crowley’s upper lip curled, before he cleared his throat. “Of course. We’ll make dinner? Two days from now, about six.”

Gabriel nodded. “We’ll make it. Need to dress up, or…”

“Just casual. It’s good to see you all.” Crowley hummed, extending a hand which Sam took and shook (with a little bit of effort) gladly.

“See you then.”

——

“Two days?” Castiel sighed, tilting his head to the side and pursing his lips. “And you volunteered to make dinner.”

“What else would you have me do, Cassie?” Crowley raised his brows, leaning in against the angel’s side. “We can do Italian. Pasta, some fish…”

Castiel shook his head. “No. Something they’re both used to, that they’ll both definitely enjoy.”

“So elevated diner food is what you’re saying.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t make that face, Crowley.” Dean scoffed, arching a brow. “S’damn good food, don’t need you to be snobby over it. Just something simple. Alright?”

“Alright,” Crowley hummed, “I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“So you’ll make some pies, then?”

“Cheeky little shit. Yes.”


	2. Chapter  Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparation for, and conclusion of, the meeting between Sam and Dean for the first time in five years.

Crowley pursed his lips, looking down at the ingredients spread over the counter. He’d (very rightly) assumed Sam would be able to tuck away just as much, if not more, than Dean, and he had the framework all thought out for both the meeting and the meal- but he was the type to want everything perfect. Everything planned. 

And Castiel had been subject to these questions and postulations for nearly two hours, at this point. “If the question is that poutine will be acceptable, the answer is yes.”

“I know.” Crowley tapped his lower lip. “But would they like it?”

Castiel sighed. Long, slow, heavy, tired. “Crowley. It’s fried food, covered in gravy, with cheese. Look at everything else you’re making for Dean. He’ll enjoy it. He’s enjoyed everything you’ve made for him thus far, except-“

“Except for the sushi, yes.”

“And if they don’t eat it, you will.” Not ‘you can’. They were really beyond pretending it was a ‘can if I want to’ at this point. Crowley ate because he always wanted to, because he always enjoyed it.

“I know.”

Castiel nodded, and stood. “We don’t have cheese curd. I will return shortly.” And with a flapping of wings, he was gone.

And Crowley finally started on the prep work. Stopped to watch as Dean finally made his way into the kitchen, huffing and puffing.

“Crowley,” He wheezed, red in the face, sweat beading on his brow. “Thought you said,” Another sharp breath, a grunt, “You wrote mobility into the deals, man. Fuck,” He struggled for the last few paces as he waddled and whined, huffing as he thumped himself into his chair at the kitchen table- same style as the others, just wide enough for his oversize ass and without armrests. 

“Mhm. You’re moving, aren’t you?” Crowley hummed, pausing to wash his hands in the sink before he walked over to sit across from Dean. “Generally, someone of your size wouldn’t have been able to make the walk from sitting room to kitchen. Dean- you were already waddling just because of how fat you were a hundred pounds ago, even I can’t fix everything.” He might have been able too, actually. This was more of a ‘best effort’ deal. He enjoyed watching Dean struggle, liked watching him winded with his chest heaving and his fat shuddering. So. He could do a little more, he just didn’t want to. 

“You could have asked me to snap my fingers, or called for me to come out there.” Crowley hummed, “If you don’t like walking that much.”

Dean waved him off, still catching his breath. “No, I can fuckin’ walk out to see you, Crowley. Do you need help?”

Crowley smiled a little at that. “Sure, if you’re offering. Could peel and cut the potatoes for me? I’ve already cleaned them. I’m making fries.”

Dean grinned at that. “Hell yeah I can help, sure. Just bring ‘em over here?”

“Of course.” Crowley hummed lightly as he set the bag of potatoes, knife, cutting board and peeler on the table in front of Dean. After a moment’s pause he added a cold beer as well. 

“Thanks, man. Love you.” Dean beamed, taking a swig of the beer. 

He didn’t say ‘I love you often’. He had a million other ways to express it- but it was always so nice to hear. 

Crowley smiled and drifted back over to lean down and press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “That’s what I like to hear.” He teased lightly. “I love you too, squirrel. But I should be thanking you for helping, not the other way ‘round.”

It took hours to get everything ready. It was easier to cook in advance- with a combination of Castiel’s grace and a hexbag tucked under the table, the food stayed perfectly fresh, steaming, like it was just out of the oven or fryer. 

Keeping Dean from eating it was another matter. Though- simply bringing him to another room and providing different food proved an apt solution.

Castiel looked up at the clock on the mantle. “Do you want to change? We have nearly half an hour before they arrive.”

Dean frowned and looked down at himself, at the plain grey t-shirt that rode up around his belly, the sweatpants that were acting a little more like lycra, and nodded. “Yeah, think so. Something that fits a bit better.”

No need to ask twice. In an instant Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed upstairs, Crowley standing in front of him. 

The thing was, Crowley liked dressing Dean up. Liked dressing Castiel up, liked dressing himself up. He enjoyed fashion, he had been a tailor, after all. 

But he’d said casual, he’d be sticking to it. “Let’s see, then.” He leaned to the side, cocking his hip, and hummed. “Shirt off, I’ll help with your pants,” 

The shirt was a process. With the fat hanging off Dean’s arms, with how the fabric seemed to cling to the parts of his skin that were sheened in sweat, lifting it up and off of his head was a struggle Dean didn’t want to admit to.

Of course, once it was off, he was freshened right back up again with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, like he’d just taken a shower. 

On went an undershirt, a plain white t-shirt, and a flannel- purposefully left hanging open, because, thrilled no doubt as Crowley and Castiel would be, Dean popping a button at dinner was less than ideal. 

A new pair of sweatpants that was actually loose, into which the overhanging shelf of Dean’s belly was tucked. The rest still bulged out over the waistband just a little. 

“Christ, Dean,” Crowley flinched as he spoke, didn’t care much, “You look stunning. Let’s get you downstairs?” He checked the clock. Five minutes to spare. 

They waited in the sitting room. Dean taking up his usual spot(s) on the couch, Castiel and Crowley in the two armchairs beside. 

——

For someone close to six hundred pounds, Sam was pretty damned good at getting where he wanted to be- thanks, in part, to that a), he was tall and the weight was spread fairly evenly, and, b), that Lucifer or Gabriel was always close by. He never made the connection that just maybe, there was some grace in play. 

He was dressed fairly similarly to Dean, with the exception that he had a soft fleece on over top of the flannel- both garments were unbuttoned and unzippered. 

“You’re sure this is-“ Sam let out a soft breath, staring up at the house- the mansion, really, because he really doubted Crowley would stoop to anything less, and frowning.

“Sure am, kiddo. Bet Dean’ll be happy to see you. It’s been years.” Gabriel hummed, leaning against Sam’s side.

It was almost comical- he was dwarfed by the man, both in height and weight. At least in his chosen vessel, anyways.

“So quit stalling and come on.” And in a flash they were inside.

Lucifer hummed. “Sorry we didn’t knock.” He shrugged, pulled a face as if to say ‘what can I do’.

Sam and Dean were silent. Dean, staring up at his brother from his spot on the couch; Sam looking down at him from where he stood.

Dean broke the silence first, snorting, “So, Sammy, looks like the diet worked out real well for you, huh?”

Sam blinked before laughing, eyes crinkling up in a genuine smile. “Shut up, jerk. Told you you’d get fat if you weren’t hunting.”

“Bitch.” Dean grunted out as he pushed himself to stand.

A hug wasn’t exactly feasible, that was okay. They managed a halfway, sideways embrace that worked out just fine.

“How you been, man? How’re they treating you?” Dean asked.

Sam hummed, pulling back. “...Really well, actually. If you couldn’t tell.” Sam chuckled. “It’s nice. I...I read, I do some research, if I want to- Gabriel has access to a lot of Heaven’s libraries, so I translate those, we go on dates….” He smiled happily.

Dean nodded. “Good. Good- we got the food, all set, but it can wait if you just wanna chat awhile? Catch up?”

“I’d love to.”

So they sat for hours. Until nine, actually. Talking, shooting the shirt, working their way through a six-pack of beer. 

Crowley and Gabriel sat off to the side, Castiel and Lucifer… avoided eachother, each drifting into the other conversations from time to time but were mostly happy to be silent given the alternative. 

“Fuck, man,” Dean took a swig of his beer. “I’m starved. Dinner?”

Sam looked at the clock and his eyes widened. “Shit. Shit, yeah, I’m so sorry.” He looked to Crowley. “You guys coulda stopped us.” He said sheepishly, brows raised. 

Lucifer shook his head. “Nonsense, Sam. You haven’t seen your brother in over five years. You’re allowed to talk.”

Castiel nodded. “But if you’re hungry now, we can eat. I’ll help you to the kitchen?” He stood and offered Dean his arm as Gabriel quickly did the same for Sam.

Dinner passed in the same way. More talk than eating- though there was plenty of the latter, seeing as there was enough to feed ten people and only four were having any. 

Gabriel enjoyed indulging just as much as Sam, but unlike the human he didn’t need it. Didn’t metabolize it unless he really wanted to, didn’t expel it as waste, just...savored the taste, chewed, swallowed, miracled it away as soon as it hit his vessel’s stomach. 

Most of the time, at least. It was nice to have a binge that really pinned you down in your seat once in a while, but this was neither the time nor the place for that. 

Crowley ate because both he and Castiel enjoyed it. Dean was beginning to catch on to what was happening, there- and he definitely wasn’t complaining. Crowley was alright with a little weight gain- didn’t intend to let himself go nearly as far as Dean, he still enjoyed wearing suits, after all, and once you got that big- really, what was the point?

And of course Sam and Dean ate simply for the joy of it. 

Part of it was being able to overindulge after a childhood of having next to nothing, starved of more than just love. Dean had already started doing that when they were still on the road. Making up for it all. But never to this extent.

And it was nice. Knowing you didn’t have an obligation, didn’t have to be trained and poised at every second, the ability to let one’s self grow soft was a privilege they finally both enjoyed. 

They set up a date for next week. Liked the idea of doing Sunday dinners as a group. And if there was the opportunity to also compare who had gotten bigger or outgrown their most recent set of clothes- well, that was all the better, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y’all enjoy! Let me know what you think, and if there’s anything you wanna see in the future for this series.


End file.
